Sweet Dreams
by Austin Blake
Summary: Angel visits Buffy in the middle of the night and watches her sleep. Pure fluff.


DISCLAIMER: Ah hell, you know what's yours and what isn't...  
DEDICATION: Molly, the only girl I know who does Buffy justice. She is the inspiration for all my Buffy/Angel shipper stories, fluff or otherwise. Inspiration meaning that if I don't remain a B/A shipper, I'll be castrated and hung by my ankles while llamas gnaw at my flesh. A wise man once said, you can always win an argument with pointed words. Oh, I mean sticks. Pointed sticks.  
  
  
  
  
SWEET DREAMS  
  
Look at her. Sleeping so peacefully. I wonder what she's dreaming of. Me? I hope so. She's filled my dreams for countless nights since I received word of her resurrection. We were supposed to have resolved things on my last visit. But somehow, something still seemed...missing. Something kept tugging at me, beckoning me to see her again. Which is why I'm kneeling by her bed at the moment, having snuck through her window without so much as disturbing the air around her.  
  
That air. Her air. The air that swims around her and in drawn inside of her and blankets her every second of the day. That clear intangible substance that I'm so envious of. The sweet aroma of strawberries lingers faintly in it, and I can tell she showered tonight before bed. The cadence of her breathing drifts her scent deeper into my supernatural senses, and I can't help but take an unneeded breath to capture it in my long-dead lungs, to have some part of her near me again. She's under my skin, around my heart, in my soul. What could I have been possibly thinking when I left this beautiful creature? I've had time to think and speculate as to why, but I can't seem to draw a conclusion. Brooding? Destiny? If destiny took me away from her, what brought me back?  
  
She stirs a bit in her slumber, turning on her side. She's facing me now, and as the moonlight strikes her face and illuminates her creamy skin, I find myself thinking that maybe she deserves the name Angelus, for no face I've ever seen is more angelic than hers. I know I shouldn't, but yearning takes precedence over reason, and I touch her cheek ever so gently. My fingertips begin to tremble as they caress her skin, almost as if they know they aren't worthy to be in contact with this celestial being, this warrior princess who has defied even the most formidable adversaries of evil incarnate, including death, and prevailed.  
  
Her eyes open. Not suddenly, from fear. But slowly, comfortably, as if she were expecting me. I know I should move away, retreat to the shadows before her eyes adjust to the light. But I can't. Not because I'm frightened, but because I'm frozen with captivation. Those eyes, those emerald-flecked wonders that used to gaze upon me with such undying devotion. God, I know I don't deserve to look into them. I stay completely still, and I know she must think I've lost my mind because I'm staring at her so intensely.  
  
Neither of us speaks for several moments, silently relishing in the sight of one another. Reality dawns, and she gradually begins to sit up in her bed. Her look is one of concern, not a hint of anger or pain from my presence visible.  
  
"Angel...?" She rubs the sleep out of her eyes, as if to make sure she wasn't still dreaming. "What...what's wrong?"  
  
I'm at a loss for words. How do you communicate to something so exquisitely beautiful? "Nothing...I...I just had to see you..."  
  
Her composure softens, and she reaches out a hand towards me. She stops halfway to my face, as if debating with herself on her actions. She smiles faintly, having made a decision, and runs her fingertips along my jawline. I feel her falter for a moment, her hand trembling just as mine had. "I'm glad you came."  
  
I decide not to argue with her by saying something stupid like, "Are you sure?" Instead, I welcome her appreciation, slowly moving toward her. I sit on the bed next to her, keeping my head lowered. I didn't want to look at her. I wasn't entitled to that privilege. She reacted to my nearness, but not in the manner I expected. She laid her head on my shoulder, letting her arms wander around my waist loosely. I had to protest. I couldn't see how she could allow herself to touch something so...unclean. Something that had hurt her countless times and, if near her, would be certain to do so again.  
  
"Buffy..."  
  
She read my mind. "Shh..." That was all she said, closing her eyes and nuzzling into my chest. I thought to protest further, then thought better of it. All was quiet for a few minutes, and her breathing slowed. She was cozy, satisfied with using my body as a pillow. Her heartbeat was slow and steady, and it could feel in pulsate through every inch of my body. It was a welcomed sensation, having her this close to me again. I thought she had fallen asleep, until she broke the silence. Her voice was soft, nonjudgmental.  
  
"Stay tonight..."  
  
It was more of a command than a request, but I had no opposition to it. She began to lay back down, bringing me with her. I rest my arm over her tummy, my heart beginning to swell with joy. She spoke up again. "No..." I take it to mean she wanted me on the floor, in her room when she woke up. I get to my feet, cautious not to disturb her rest, and walk to her closet to get an extra blanket. Her words stop me. "...under the covers..."  
  
I turn and look upon her half-sleeping from, pondering the consequences. Finding more pros than cons, I oblige and move over to her bed, where upon doing so she folded the comforter back for me. I lay down, luxuriating in her touch as she cuddles me close to her body, the steady palpitation of her heartbeat like a pleasant lullaby, bidding me to sleep. Our embrace soothes me, and I can't help but close my eyes. But before either of us can fall asleep, I kiss along her neck softly, gliding up her cheek and nibbling at her earlobe.  
  
"Sweet dreams, Buffy..."  
  
Again, quiet. The warmth of her body against mine invites me to sleep, and I almost drift off...but Buffy speaks again, this time in a whisper.  
  
"Stay forever...is forever good for you...?" Is she dreaming? Is she asking me? Maybe both. It isn't the first time she's said those words to me, and I have the compulsion to answer in the same way.  
  
"I'll stay..." My mind leaves out the "for however long you need me." I open my eyes and look at her as if for the first time, praying for the moon to keep shining and deny the sunrise. Let this night last forever. Please, God. "I'll stay..." That's all that is said. I take her into my arms, holding her, clutching her to my body as if she were the last source of warmth and light in my world. Because she is.  
  
"Forever's fine with me."  
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Feedback please...review if you read. 


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